Upstate Farmers Find That a Fertile Flood Plain Is a Two-Edged Sword

New York growers, many of whose farms have been in the family for generations, suffered devastating crop losses as a result of Tropical Storm Irene.

LISA W. FODERARO

Like many other growers in the Hudson Valley, John Gill’s grandfather established his farm along the banks of a creek — in his case, the lower Esopus in Hurley, N.Y. — because the land was so fertile, with topsoil penetrating 10 to 30 feet into the earth.

The fertility is due to a flood plain. But the geological blessing of such a plain can change, in a matter of hours, into calamity, as Mr. Gill saw this week on the family farm, established in 1937, which sits at the base of the Catskill Mountains. More than a third of his 1,500 acres of sweet corn and other vegetables, which usually end up in the produce aisle of the ShopRite chain and on the menu at Blue Hill, among other places, was destroyed by Tropical Storm Irene.

“I had some fields under 10 feet of water,” he said. “You couldn’t see a stalk.”

From the Hudson Valley to areas farther north, along the Mohawk River and Schoharie Creek, New York growers, many of whose farms have been in the family for generations, were dealt a devastating blow by the storm, which dumped heavy rain on the region. Some farmers, who were without power and hobbled by disabled equipment, were not even able to assess the full extent of the damage.

State and local officials said the storm destroyed dozens of farms and crippled many others by killing livestock, submerging crops, washing away barns and buckling nearby roads. The onslaught came at the worst possible time, with farmers in the midst of harvesting a year’s worth of labor. In some spots, orange orbs were eerily visible underwater during flyovers by state officials — a vestige of the season’s pumpkin crop.

“Clearly, it’s not good,” said Darrel J. Aubertine, the commissioner of the state’s Department of Agriculture and Markets. “I’ve been involved in agriculture my entire life, and there have been times when the weather has wreaked havoc on livestock and farms, but I don’t think I have ever seen anything on this scale here in New York.”

Representatives of farmers’ markets in New York City said that shoppers would feel the effects throughout the fall. “There will be farmers they’ve known for years who might not be bringing product,” said Michael Hurwitz, director of the greenmarket program at GrowNYC, a nonprofit group.

On Mr. Gill’s farm, in Ulster County, workers began picking corn in late July, so about two-thirds of his crop had already been harvested when the storm hit. Still, he estimated his crop losses at more than $1 million, adding that he does not have sufficient crop insurance because it is too expensive. “I’m going to be very intimate with my banker this winter,” he said.

At Davenport Farms, in nearby Stone Ridge, the cantaloupes were submerged, while the corn crop had been blown down by strong winds. Even though the owner, Bruce Davenport, may be able to salvage some of his corn, he now worries about plant disease.

“It moves around in the water and can infect a huge area,” said Mr. Davenport, whose ancestor Isaiah Davenport founded the farm in 1840.

In the Schoharie and Mohawk Valleys, where dairy farms dot the landscape, there were reports of cows being swept downstream in some places. State officials said there were clearly livestock losses, but were reluctant to provide an estimate. “We’re still in the first stage of the assessment,” Mr. Aubertine said.

Other farmers whose cows survived were unable to get feed or milk truck pickups, because of washed-out roads. Cows must be milked at least twice a day, and most farms have limited storage capacity, so access to milk trucks is critical.

“There were some farmers yesterday who ended up having to dump the milk, which represents a loss of income at a time when they are facing catastrophe, ” said Dean E. Norton, president of the New York Farm Bureau, which represents 30,000 farm families in the state.

In Greene County, farther north, the Lawrence family surveyed ruined fields of corn and alfalfa in Ashland that they lease to a nearby dairy farmer. During the storm, the Schoharie Creek, which runs through the farm, overflowed its banks, turning the land into a “raging lake” some 300 yards across, Nancy Lawrence said.

“I’ve seen everything go by: cars, people’s decks, coolers, people’s belongings,” said her son, Doug Lawrence, 45, who had removed five wagonloads of garbage from the fields. “In all my life, I’ve never seen it so high.”

Not far away, Don Tompkins counted himself lucky. In 1970, a barn fire on the family farm killed all 80 of his family’s cows. No longer in the dairy business, he came across as a bit nonchalant Tuesday while staring out at his 445-acre hay field, strewn with storm debris.

Still, he marveled at the power of the normally slow-moving Schoharie Creek, which had transplanted items from the next town. “I am finding debris that I can identify as having come from Windham,” he said, noting an Adirondack chair from Chicken Run, a restaurant, and two-by-fours from a lumber yard there in his field. “The good news is we’ve got enough lumber to build an outhouse.”

In Hurley, Mr. Gill was both philosophical and practical in assessing the aftermath of the storm. “It’s one of those things,” he said. “You put your boots back on and deal with it.”